


Far Enough to Fall

by Anarhichas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarhichas/pseuds/Anarhichas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin knew very well that he was ill. It didn't mean he had to accept it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far Enough to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/3666.html?thread=6176082#cmt6176082
> 
> Concrit more than welcome!

Armin lay in bed and wanted to die. Or, he thought, die was a bit dramatic – maybe just sleep a long time and not have to get up until precisely when he wanted to. Yeah. That sounded better.  
  
The others in the dormitory were chatting in the sleepy morning way, strapping themselves into their gear and making the beds. The knowledge that he had to join them picked away at Armin's mind like birds in the fields, pecking at newly scattered seeds. He clutched his blanket closer around his head.  
  
Eyes closed, unmoving, he knew with certainty that his body would not appreciate getting up. Or training, for that matter. His throat already itched, dry and painful, like he'd spent all night eating sandpaper. The beginnings of a headache had started to worm its way between his eyes, a dull and persistent ache.  
  
'Come on, Armin,' Eren said, far too loud, and tugged at one of Armin's feet. Armin's breath hissed in his throat as he pulled his legs to his chest, and even the motion of curling up sent his head pounding.  
  
'Are you okay?' That was Reiner, and great, the absolute last thing he needed was for everyone to think he was even more weak than they already did. Armin quailed for a second then pushed his blanket off, sitting up. The action made his head spin, stomach clenching and throat crawling with the anticipation of throwing up. He blinked muzzily in Reiner's direction and tried to look awake.  
  
'Yes, just tired,' he lied, and hoped desperately that his voice hadn't sounded so scratchy and pallid to them as it had in his own head. Reiner frowned at him, mild disbelief written clearly over his face, but left to resume getting ready. Though Eren waited a little longer, staring unabashedly as he stood half-dressed, he didn't say anything more.  
  
Crawling out of bed felt like ageing a hundred years. Nausea making his throat tight Armin clenched his jaws together. He wasn't hungry but knew he'd raise far too much suspicion skipping breakfast, and besides that he'd need the strength for training. Still, even the thought of watery porridge made him close his eyes for a long second, battling down the swell of queasiness. He fumbled with the straps of his gear, the tips of his fingers clumsy. Hopelessness began to creep up on him. He'd never make it through the day. Even trying was stupid. He didn't want anyone to think him weak, but what was the point when weak was exactly what he was?  
  
Armin took a large breath through his mouth, then another. He’d be okay. He just had to work through it. The air made the nausea retreat a little but didn't help the pounding in his head, nor the rawness of his throat.  
  
Breakfast was awful. The smell of bread, thick and moist, made him want to throw up with every breath. Mikasa watched him and Armin was sure she knew he was ill, but thankfully didn't say anything. His eyes itched. The headache was only getting worse. The day, Armin reflected miserably as they finished up and he filed out with his squad to the forest training grounds, was only getting worse.  
  
They started off with simple things, little manoeuvres that Armin knew even he should get but couldn’t. Gripping the gear handles with sweating palms, feeling like someone was repeatedly stabbing him through the eyes with a long, blunt needle, he aimed up to the target branch, fired the gear, and missed entirely. Someone sniggered behind him, the sound driving into his brain almost as bad as the headache, an acute feeling of well earned embarrassment. He tried again, hitting this time, and on landing up on the platform he stumbled almost far enough to fall straight back down again.  
  
The next target branch, barely ten metres away, looked fuzzy. The summer sun blared. Aiming his gear and firing felt like punching himself in the face. Each violent jolt through the air made the headache pound that much worse, the breath scrape his throat rawer and rawer until it felt like it should be bleeding. Every stumbled landing he swallowed heavily, sure that this would be the time his guts finally won their rebellion and threw up their contents, a gross and shameful failure.  
  
It was barely mid morning. Armin reached the end of the course and sat down abruptly, back pressed to a tree trunk and forehead down on his bent knees. Sucking in air through his mouth, nose blocked entirely, he clenched his hands, trying to feel the pain of his short fingernails over the bludgeoning his headache had morphed into. Sweat stuck his shirt to his back and armpits, the coolness of evaporation initially a relief but quickly turning into yet another agony, freezing and uncomfortable in the wind.  
  
'Here,' a voice said, and it took a moment for Armin to realise it was talking to him. He looked up, squinting as the sunlight made his eyes hurt. Mikasa crouched in front of him, looking about as worn out as if she'd just taken a gentle stroll. She held out a water canteen.  
  
Had it been anyone else Armin would have refused. He knew Mikasa through long years of exposure, however, so instead reached out and took a small sip, willing it to stay down. It was only afterwards that he realised quite how thirsty he was, and eyes screwed closed again he managed to finish the canteen.  
  
'Oi, Armin.' Eren flopped down loudly beside Mikasa. 'You look like shit.'  
  
It wasn't a question so Armin didn't answer. He kept his eyes closed and wished they'd go away, leave him in peace for the rest of the break.  
  
'No, I mean it.' Eren's voice has turned serious – never a good thing, Armin thought uncharitably. 'You're ill, aren't you?'  
  
'I'm fine,' Armin said, and even at the end of the second word the water remaining in his throat seemed to dry up and leave him voiceless. He wanted to say more but couldn't seem to grasp at the words, and anyway he doubted his throat could take it. He put his head back down onto his knees, trying to swallow down an emerging cough and failing.  
  
'Bullshit,' Eren said, reaching over and trying to rest the back of his hand against Armin's forehead. Armin twisted away, keeping his head down, the movement sending sharp spikes of pain through his skull.  
  
'Armin, if you're that ill you really shouldn't be training. You know how dangerous it can be.' Mikasa was only being sensible, Armin knew distantly, but her words grated, patronising. Mikasa never got sick. Eren never got sick. Why did he have to be the weak one, the one who had to sit out because of his stupid damn frailness?  
  
'I'm fine!' Armin repeated, aiming for stronger but only just managing to rasp out the words. 'Just let me rest a bit.'

The break finished far too quickly. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to sit there and never have to move again. Shadis started shouting and Armin stumbled as he stood up, yanking his arm back from where Eren gripped it, trying to stabilise him. The ground felt like it was rocking. His headache hadn't got better at all, driving pulses of agony into his eyes, refusing to be ignored. He coughed, whole body spasms impossible to control, and it felt like he was trying to throw up his lungs along with breakfast.  
  
No one stopped him as he started the second part of the course, and the feeling in that was partly triumph and partly a thick, undignified dread. He couldn't do it. He didn't want to even try. His headache pounded away and in the first tree he bent into a crouch with the force of his coughs.  
  
The course seemed to go on forever. Armin lost track of time. He could barely think, barely keep the thoughts straight in his head. Find the next target. Hit it. Land on the appropriate platform. Find the next target. Hit it. The trees felt like they swayed in storm winds. He squinted, because even keeping his eyes open hurt.  
  
Then he was standing very still. Armin blinked. There was a rush of sound in his ears but everything else had gone quiet. He looked around uncertainly but darkness bled into his vision and suddenly he couldn't see at all. He could feel the breath rasp in his lungs, the stuffiness blocking his nose, but nothing else. He – he needed to sit down, but his legs wouldn't move. His vision wouldn't come back. Then his thoughts stopped entirely.  
  
Armin woke abruptly to his own coughing, loud and scraping deep inside his chest. His eyes were pressed closed, gummy and still aching with the pounding of his headache. There was the sound of footsteps, the scuffing of chairs being pushed against wooden flooring, and Armin rubbed his eyes open with the back of one hand.  
  
Eren loomed over him, Mikasa holding back at a more reserved distance. Armin looked around. They were in the infirmary, he realised with a sinking feeling of humiliation.  
  
'You're awake,' Eren said unnecessarily, and touched the back of his hand on Armin's forehead. This time Armin let him, too tired to resist. 'Fuck it, don't do that again.'  
  
'What happened?' Armin managed, a sore croak, barely louder than a whisper. Mikasa got him a tin mug filled with water and he sat up slowly, drinking it down.  
  
'You passed out,' Eren reported, voice a little too loud but not seeming to notice the way Armin flinched from it. 'What do you remember? You were on one of the platforms, standing there for ages, then you sort of just folded up and fell off. Mikasa caught you.'  
  
'Oh,' Armin said, not knowing what else to say, and hacked a ragged cough that sent stabs of pain down his spine. 'Thank you,' he added to Mikasa once he'd mostly stopped, and the words only set him off again, racking his entire body, uncontrolled. Exhausted by the effort Armin sank back down in the bed.  
  
'Shouldn't you be training or something?' he asked, feeling bad for wanting to be alone but unable to get rid of the sentiment. He should be used to it by now – getting saved by his friends. They'd done it enough with the bullies, why should he expect any different when it came to saving him from himself? The shame roiled in his gut. It wasn't fair.  
  
'It's lunchtime,' Mikasa said mildly, and any reply Armin could have given was cut off by Eren.  
  
'You shouldn't have done it!' he burst. 'Training ill. You could've cracked your head open, or broken your back or anything – if Mikasa hadn't caught you you might have died and – and–'  
  
Just the sight of Eren's open faced earnestness made Armin's eyes sting with the feeling of imminent tears. How pathetic. He was so pathetic.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he whispered, mouth wet, twisting, his nose still clogged up but starting to run. He just felt terrible, headache stabbing, throat raw and bobbing with nausea, bones sore and weak. What was the point? He should just get used to being helpless, a burden, because it wasn't ever going to change.  
  
Eren gripped his hand unexpectedly, fingers strong and a little too hot. 'Just don't do something stupid like that again,' he said fervently, and Armin cracked a small laugh at the hypocrisy.  
  
'Like you can talk,' Mikasa piped up, putting voice to the words Armin couldn't quite muster the energy for. Eren scowled at her and Armin's watery smile widened a bit more without permission.  
  
'We should go,' Mikasa said suddenly, standing up straighter. She grabbed Eren's arm, hauling him back and breaking his grip on Armin's hand. Armin sent them an inquiring look, not trusting himself to speak without coughing, and tried not to let it show that the broken contact felt as much of an unexpected loss as it did.  
  
'We're not really meant to be here, something about you being contagious,' Eren said without the faintest trace of guilt, but quickly as he was herded to the open window. 'It's stupid, we'll be back tonight, promise.'  
  
'Get better soon,' Mikasa said as she shoved Eren out of the window, climbing out herself, and Armin had just enough time to close his eyes and smooth away his wobbly smile, faking sleep, before the doctor walked in.


End file.
